Intersect Neal
by Quinis
Summary: 'Intersect Neal Project' proposed to the Director: A bid to understand what went wrong with Agent X and unravel some of the mysteries surrounding the Intersect's ability to overwrite a human's attributes. It was his life, but not his life, laid out in black and white.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** So, this one has been sitting on my computer for a long time, waiting for it's turn to be posted (but it's still incomplete). Thanks to KMW1968, who I bounce ideas off, even when they don't make sense. I hope this lives up to a little bit of what you imagined.

So, new story. This chapter is a little different to my previous stories, it's been written like a bunch of reports. There will be things that might not be accurate in future chapters because most of these have been written by 'E' and she doesn't know everything.

* * *

><p>Intersect Neal<p>

* * *

><p>Open: 'Intersect N[eal] Project'<p>

Ctrl+F

Find: 'Intersect N' replace with 'Intersect Neal'

Find: 'Personality N' replace with 'Neal'

Find: 'Subject B' replace with 'Bryce'

OK

* * *

><p><strong>Report Summary – Message from E to Orion (dated: 2003)<strong>

* * *

><p>'Intersect Neal Project' proposed to the Director: A bid to understand what went wrong with Agent X and unravel some of the mysteries surrounding the Intersect's ability to overwrite a human's attributes.<p>

'Intersect Neal' is a personality Intersect designed to overwrite the subject's attributes and replace them with the attributes of a programmed identity, henceforth referred to as 'Neal'. This Intersect will be uploaded into a subject and the subject will be monitored over a number of months.

* * *

><p>Bryce has volunteered to be the subject of this trial.<p>

* * *

><p>Neal is programmed to be a man in his early twenties who grew up in Witsec. Neal idolised his father before finding out that he was a corrupt police officer from his father's old partner, after which he left Witsec and has lived on his own. I have been programmed in as said partner. The programmed history with me means Neal will trust me.<p>

Intersect Neal will also provide Neal with skills not possessed by Bryce, painting and other forms of art. Neal does not possess affinity with computers and hacking as Bryce does.

Neal will be activated in New York where I and a small team of select agents will monitor him over the course of this project.

* * *

><p><strong>Progress Report (dated: 2003)<strong>

* * *

><p>A few days into the Intersect Neal Project and we have seen no signs of attributes belonging to Bryce.<p>

Neal showed no confusion upon waking in the prepared apartment. He moved as if he lived there, just as expected. Bryce moves and acts as if he has been Neal for all his life.

The mistaken delivery of Star Trek themed books, something which Bryce would like, did not interest Neal. Upon opening the box, Neal handed it back.

* * *

><p><strong>Progress Report (dated: 2003)<strong>

* * *

><p>We are at the one week mark and the project is moving along as expected.<p>

* * *

><p>Yesterday, Neal met an odd little man wearing a toupee in the park. The man in question managed to trail him back to his apartment. Neal showed none of the training Bryce received in identifying and eluding a tail.<p>

The odd little man was impressed with the bonds Neal forged, which appears to be how Neal has chosen to use the skills we programmed him with. The odd little man made Neal a proposition.

* * *

><p><em>Picture attached <em>– Who is he?

* * *

><p><strong>Progress Report (dated: 2003)<strong>

* * *

><p>One month since the commencement of the Intersect Neal Project.<p>

* * *

><p>The odd little man, Neal refers to him as 'Mozzie', keeps eluding the agents assigned to track him. He appears to have taught Neal his tricks. Visuals of Neal have been lost at times. Tracker is still fully functional.<p>

Neal has begun creating numerous alias and spying on various people and corporations. He appears to be attempting to integrate himself in [Vincent Adler's] select circle.

Hours of observation and discussion have concluded that these actions are not a consequence of Bryce fighting off the Intersect programming; rather it is due to the Intersect Neal programming subsequent interaction with the odd little man.

* * *

><p>How is it that we can't identify him?<p>

* * *

><p><strong> Extracts from the Report Compiled in the wake of [Adler's] scam and disappearance (dated: 2004)<strong>

* * *

><p>Reviewing the data of the past few months, I wonder how we missed it. [Adler] hinted at his plans to Neal during those final few interactions.<p>

Evidence gathered from Intersect Neal Project suggests that personality Intersects predispose subjects to the criminal element. Neal has attracted the attention of the FBI and toyed with its agents.

* * *

><p>- <em>Neal lost: Tracker Malfunction<em>

A few days after [Adler's] disappearance, the tracker assigned to Neal was disabled and he also disappeared off the radar.

* * *

><p>We were ready to test our Intersect Removal Program on Bryce. Plans have been changed. Our main priority has shifted to the capture of Neal.<p>

* * *

><p>Neal eludes all attempts at capture. Despite programming him, no one is able to explain how, why or what his next action may be. Neal appears to be on a crime spree which has caught the attention of a number of law enforcement agencies.<p>

We have reviewed all files these agencies have on him. Curiously, while programmed to be able to handle guns, Neal doesn't use them. And even though Neal has not been programmed with the martial arts training Bryce possessed, he has yet to respond in a violent manner towards anyone.

Attempts made by me to contact Neal and convince him to return to us have been mostly ignored. Neal seems concerned for my safety and refuses to see me.

It would appear that some of our fears about creating another Agent X are unfounded. While Neal has overtaken the original personality, he has not risen to the level of national security risk. Neal goes out of his way to try not to hurt people and has a reputation for being non-violent.

* * *

><p>Neal has been captured. A failed heist in Copenhagen landed a companion of his in hospital and presented us with the chance to grab him when he attempted to visit her. He was transported back to New York via Denmark and France where we set up an Intersect Removal Program.<p>

The program appears to have restored subject's original personality. The skills programmed into Intersect Neal are no longer present in subject.

Due to how long Bryce possessed Intersect Neal, he shows signs of difficulty with processing time. Unfortunately, we don't have time to explore all the effects prolonged exposure to the Intersect has on a subject as Bryce had been assigned to a mission in Lisbon.

* * *

><p><strong>Extract from Report on the Revival of Intersect Neal Project (dated: 2005)<strong>

* * *

><p>Intersect Neal has resurfaced in Bryce and taken over his mind. We are uncertain as to how this happened and whether something triggered the change. We can only conclude that our Intersect Removal Program was not as successful as we first believed. It appears to be no more than an Intersect suppressor and its effects wear off in time.<p>

* * *

><p>Bryce dropped off the grid only a day after completing a mission in Bogota, Colombia. Bryce has quickly become one of the best and the Director has made getting him back our top priority.<p>

* * *

><p>Neal is infamous. His crimes are getting bigger each time and are impossible to track or prove. Neal continues to elude all law enforcement agencies, including us. He has numerous aliases and is cautious, especially when it comes to us. Once again, any attempts to convince Neal to visit me have failed.<p>

An Agent in the FBI is the only federal agent we have monitored who has gotten close to capturing Neal. Neal interacts with him and his team as if this is a game. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage?

* * *

><p><strong>Status Update (dated: 2005)<strong>

* * *

><p>Neal has been arrested, charged and shipped off to a SuperMax facility. We have intercepted his transport and set up screens at the prison to ensure that his disappearance isn't noticed.<p>

A new Intersect Removal Program was used to remove Intersect Neal. Bryce was disorientated as he woke and listened to our reports on what Neal did with a mix of surprise and horror. He claimed to be able to remember some of it; these claims were backed up when he interrupted reports with events that had yet to be mentioned.

Once again, the skills programmed into Intersect Neal faded upon removal.

* * *

><p><strong>Status Update (dated: 2007)<strong>

* * *

><p>Bryce broke into a secure NSA facility and was shot dead. I am unable to see the body and so, am unable to determine if his sudden rogue actions were connected to Intersect Neal.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Report on the Pending Status of Intersect Project Neal (dated: 2009)<strong>

* * *

><p>Bryce was alive and I was not informed. After being shot in 2007, he was revived by Fulcrum, a hostile espionage organisation. He was shot again three weeks ago by an agent of the Ring. When the CIA revived him, Neal resurfaced. As he was drugged and confused, I managed to convince Neal that he was in the prison infirmary after being shivved in the shower.<p>

A number of different Intersect Removal Programs were used on the subject but none appeared to work. Intersect Neal has completely taken over Bryce and we haven't the first clue how to remove it.

* * *

><p>It has been decided that Neal will be placed back in prison. I will monitor his progress until a way of permanently removing the Intersect is developed.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Status Update (dated: 2009)<strong>

* * *

><p>Neal escaped. With only three months left, he walked. Instead of serving four more years for his escape, Neal made a deal. Neal has an electronic monitoring anklet and a radius. While this makes it easier for us to track his movements, it also makes it more difficult for us to extract him when the time comes.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Status<strong> **Update (dated: 2010)**

* * *

><p>The girl who Neal broke out of prison for died in an explosion. While Bryce didn't care for this girl who Neal romanced, Neal is upset and looking for find the person who killed her.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Status<strong> **Update (dated: 2010)**

* * *

><p>Neal turned a gun on the man he suspected of killing his girl. The security tapes show him performing stunts which were not programmed into Intersect Neal. Either he learnt during his crime sprees or he was unconsciously tapping into the training Bryce received.<p>

Neal did not shoot anyone. His FBI handler managed to talk him down.

* * *

><p><strong>Status<strong> **Update (dated: 2011)**

* * *

><p>A new Intersect Removal Program appears to have been created. Neal is currently under too much scrutiny from the FBI after a warehouse explosion and his suspected acquisition of the contents of a NAZI submarine. There are plans in place to catch Neal if he runs as well as plans in motion to get Neal to DC if he doesn't.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Extracts from Report detailing failed attempts to reclaim Neal (dated: 2012)<strong>

* * *

><p>Our first attempt at reclaiming Neal involved sending a CIA agent who has spent years undercover in the FBI. His task was to bring Neal to DC.<p>

During this time, Neal turned up on my doorstep. We had a talk, during which I assessed that Intersect Neal still has a firm hold on the subject. There was no sign of subject's original personality.

I gave Neal back his stolen property. The plan had been for the CIA agent to grab him with it and use it as leverage to bring Neal with him to DC. Unfortunately, Neal managed to slip through the trap through the combined effort of his FBI handler and an insurance investigator.

Even so, we thought we had him. The agent managed to put everything in place to bring Neal to DC.

Neal must have been warned, somehow. He ran. All our resources were tied up in the CIA agent's plan and we were unable to catch him in time. We lost him.

* * *

><p>Our second attempt at reclaiming Neal was a partial success as Neal was brought back to New York and not DC. An NSA agent undercover with the FBI as a bounty hunter was the main face of this operation. He started a global search but focused most of his resources in New York. He believed that the FBI agent in charge of Neal will help us find him. He wants me to give my emergency contact method for Neal to the FBI agent. I am apprehensive as the contact method will only work once.<p>

The FBI agent tracked me down. At first I refused his offer to help him with Neal but his wife made an interesting case. After confirming with the NSA agent, the emergency contact method was handed over to the FBI agent. Our suspicions were confirmed as the FBI agent managed to use the emergency contact method to locate Neal.

The FBI agent also went after Neal and warned him about the other agent after him. The FBI agent and Neal set up an op together which allowed them to capture one of the FBI's most wanted and reinstate the deal with the FBI. The NSA agent's hand was forced and he consented to Neal returning to New York.

* * *

><p><strong>Excerpt from a Message from E to General Beckman (dated: 2012)<strong>

* * *

><p>With the visit from Neal and the agents, my cover is at risk. The marshals are planning to move me, as is protocol when someone in Witsec has been exposed as I have.<p>

It is my recommendation that we bring in Agent Carmichael and his team. They have shown great success in outmanoeuvring agents who are Human Intersects and dealing with faulty Intersects.


	2. Chapter 2

Intersect Neal

Part 2

* * *

><p>Enter Password: *******<p>

Access Granted

Open: 'Intersect N[eal] Project'

* * *

><p>Reading E's; Ellen's, some part of him insisted, reports made him feel sick. His life, but not his life, laid out in black and white.<p>

* * *

><p>The last thing he remembered was bleeding out onto white floor with Chuck's worried face floating above him. He had thought that was the end. He believed he had died.<p>

_ An explosion flashed behind his eyes, the roaring of a voice both his own but not his own;_

_"KATE!"_

Bryce banged his hand on the table, the pain distracting him from the memory. That had happened... after the Intersect 2.0 room. After he had been shot.

This was not the first time the Intersect had taken over but, he had been assured that it wouldn't happen again. He was told that the last removal program was perfect.

Liars, he snorted with a slightly sadistic smile. He should have known better than to believe CIA scientists.

2012. He had been living as Neal for almost four years. Four years, he guessed that explained the little flashes of awareness which he had thought were flashes of his life as he died.

It explained why he could remember living in prison for a few days when to the best of his knowledge, Neal had always been intercepted by the CIA before reaching cell walls.

He swallowed against the feeling of despair in his gut. Had they just abandoned him? Ellen's reports seemed to suggest that she was his only contact and the only one assigned to his case.

His head buzzed._ Red flashed across his vision. Flashing lights and a crowd of people that needed to get out of his way! _Like a punch to the gut, he knew, without a doubt that Ellen was dead.

This wasn't a situation where some quick reflexes or quick thinking would save him. This was a situation he was completely unprepared for. His own head and his own body were working against him.

"Why am I still here?" he questioned. Part of him was upset that he hadn't died in that room, that he now had to deal with a life that wasn't his, and part of him was curious. Why was he here? Was the Intersect breaking down? Or had Neal been exposed to something which counteracted the effect of the Intersect?

Bryce really hoped this wouldn't last as long as that time in prison, he didn't think he could bluff his way through a few days where he would have to interact with people.

* * *

><p>Neal blinked and ran right into the glass door. The coffee in his hand spilled out and the files under his arm dropped to the ground, paper going everywhere.<p>

What the-?

"Neal!" Diana was by his side in a moment, helping him to pick up the files. Neal glanced around at the worried faces of the White Collar division. "Geez, you weren't kidding when you said you were having an off couple of days."

"What?" Neal questioned, baffled. He had never said anything like that.

"Maybe I shouldn't have pulled you into work today," Peter said, bringing over some paper towel they could use to clean up some of the coffee. "But, after two days off, I couldn't really do much about it. We need you here."

Two days? Neal didn't remember this at all. The last thing he remembered was trying to drink himself into oblivion after Ellen's death. He caught a glimpse of Peter's watch and felt his body go cold.

Two o'clock? When, how, why didn't this make any sense? He didn't remember coming to work... and the realisation hit him.

It was happening again. He had never told Peter about the blank spot in his memory during the time he had been on the run. He hadn't even told Alex that he did not know the reason he never visited her in hospital after the failed Copenhagen heist. Not even Mozzie knew; the little guy said he dropped off the radar for a couple of months and assumed he was lying low after the botched job.

Those months were a blank spot in his memory. Where he had been and what he had been doing, he had no idea.

He had never told anyone that he didn't remember those years in prison when he had been serving his first sentence, except for that time he was shivved in the shower and that was a blur of questions, doctors and people telling him 'everything will be okay'. It scared him and he lied to himself that it was some kind of defence mechanism to deal with the boredom of being locked away.

And then Kate died, and he began having random black-outs in prison. Once he got out, there were also feelings he got sometimes. Feelings like someone else was there, like a ghost standing behind him. It made his skin itch.

There was a time after they found Fowler where he blacked out for a few hours. He had woken up on the streets of New York almost two miles from June's and close to the edge of his radius. Thankfully, Peter thought he was just messing with him or something. But the what ifs of that scenario haunted him; how would he explain it if he had left his radius?

Then there were those little chunks of time he would lose. He would go from painting to sitting at a computer, the screen filled with words and symbols that he didn't understand. From sleeping to being completely dressed for the day with no memory of the steps in-between; also his tie and shirts would be all wrong and he had to change into something more befitting an ex-conman.

And it was growing more frequent.

"Neal?" Peter questioned and Neal automatically glanced up at his friend. Peter's concerned frown grew at the flash of fear Neal couldn't contain. "It's okay. Uh, maybe you can work in the conference room or my office."

"Yeah, keep the rest of us from catching what you have," Jones joked. Neal made an attempt to laugh and seem normal, even with the ever-growing bubble of fear in his chest.

* * *

><p>Bryce didn't like this. Was this really better than vanishing forever? Waking up with a wall at his back and a gun to his face was disorienting, confusing and made him feel sick to his stomach. At least he was wearing the faux FBI watch, so he knew that Neal wasn't on the run or something.<p>

He was dizzy from trying to recall FBI procedure, enough to get him out safely. There was supposed to be some kind of safe word or phrase which would bring the backup running through the doors, wasn't there? If Neal had been told one, he couldn't remember it.

Oh, forget it. He had gun to his face. Self-defence applied at the very least.

Bryce kicked up and knocked the gun out of his face. He jumped up while landing an uppercut to the gun-man's jaw, knocking him down.

He made a disappointed noise; that had been easy. The doors banged open and FBI agents swarmed in.

Bryce reflexively held his hands up.

"Neal?" Peter said, holstering his gun when he saw the suspect on the ground. "You okay?"

"I-" Bryce started, right as a wave of dizziness hit. He faltered as his vision flicked like a bad television set.

Distantly, he realised that Neal was coming back.

* * *

><p>Neal stumbled as strong hands grabbed him and helped him to the ground.<p>

"I'm okay," he insisted automatically. He glanced over at their unconscious mark and at the agents all around him.

What had happened?

"You got here quick," he commented.

"Not quick enough," Peter growled. "Although I'd like to know how you knocked him out."

Neal felt a thrill of terror go through him. He knocked the mark out? That wasn't right! Before the blank spot in his memory, he had been certain he would have been able to talk the mark down. There had been no reason to knock him out.

Yet, someone had.

"Luck?" he responded with a little less certainty than normal. He didn't want to accept it but, there was a chance he was dangerous to be around whenever he blacked out.

* * *

><p>Jones watched Neal closely. Peter had a talk with both him and Diana in private, without Caffrey. He had been worried about Neal and how he had been coping with Ellen's death.<p>

While Peter said this, his face said there was more to this story. At first, Jones thought it might be Neal planning something, possibly with the little guy.

Then Diana mentioned that Neal didn't seem comfortable alone with them. She had caught him alone and he had distracted her with talk while walking towards the bullpen. While he guided her towards the bullpen because he went right back to where he had been before once he was certain she wouldn't follow him.

Jones was inclined to agree when Peter mentioned that Neal no longer shut the door to his office if it was just them.

What was he afraid of? Diana had a few theories which made her growl in disgust but she tried looking for more signs or clues and came up empty.

Jones had a feeling that whatever it was, had potential for a lot of backlash. If they didn't figure it out soon, they might be in their last days of the job.

Diana would probably think that he was overreacting. But this was Neal Caffrey.

A currently twitching Neal Caffrey.

"Neal?" he questioned, drawing the ex-con's attention from the paper in front of him.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Neal said in a tone which bordered on polite.

Jones was confused. He hadn't been saying anything.

"About the Wittle case?" he suggested. He wanted to see how Neal would react.

Neal took a moment to think and fiddle with the papers in front of him and Jones suppressed a shiver because Neal had never done that before.

"Can't find it," Neal muttered. Then he said to him, "I guess it's been filed away somewhere. I'll try to find it, come back later?"

Jones nodded and walked back to his desk. Something was seriously wrong with Caffrey.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

* * *

><p>Enter Username: Agent Charles Carmichael<p>

Enter Password: *******

Access Granted

Open: 'Intersect N[eal] Project'

* * *

><p><em> "It is my recommendation that we bring in Agent Carmichael and his team. They have shown great success in outmanoeuvring agents who are Human Intersects and dealing with faulty Intersects."<em>

* * *

><p>Chuck stared at the words on the screen. Faulty Intersects. It was enough to make him feel sick. After Agent X, Morgan, and Sarah, he felt he had enough of 'faulty Intersects' to last a lifetime.<p>

"You're not taking this well, are you?" Sarah said, sitting down on the bed next to him so that their shoulders were touching.

"Bryce is alive after all this time, again, and thinks he's someone else thanks to something my dad created?" Chuck responded in a slightly sarcastic manner. "Yeah, I'm not taking this well. Why would he agree to this?"

"Maybe he didn't know the risks," Sarah said, the voice of reason. "They thought removing it would solve the problem."

"And when it didn't, they shoved him in prison." That hurt. He didn't want to think of Bryce, one of the greatest spies he knew, in prison with murders, mobsters and the worst society had to offer. "Maximum security. What did he do to deserve that?"

"We've gone undercover in prison before," she pointed out.

"For a few days at most!" Chuck countered, "and we at least knew who we were!"

"Maybe he was safer as Neal," Sarah suggested, planting a quick kiss on Chuck's cheek. "And Ellie is in the next room, with the program she helped design to fix the Intersect." A kiss to his shoulder. "And tomorrow, we're going to go to the FBI, get a meeting with Neal Caffrey and bring Bryce back." A kiss to his neck.

Chuck sighed. He had to admit, Sarah was very good at distracting him when the work was getting to him.

"Alright," he relented, closing the laptop and putting it and the files he had been pouring over instead of sleeping away. He curled up in bed with his wife. "You know, that should really be considered cheating."

Tomorrow they would fix this.

* * *

><p>Something felt off. Neal could sense the tension in the air, most of it emanating from one Special Agent Peter Burke.<p>

"I'm sure everything will be fine," he said. His words were full of confidence and there was no trace of the unease he had deep inside. He told himself the unease he felt was just because there were unknown agents coming into the office and kept himself firmly planted in his seat in the conference room.

"I don't like this," Peter said, "this feels like another Agent Rice situation. They've called in some favours to get you, put pressure on the right people and-"

"Have you told El this?" Neal questioned with a smirk. When Peter nodded he asked what she said.

"She said that I'm over thinking this."

"Sounds right to me," Neal responded, sure that El added something about watching over him so that nothing does happen.

The agents appeared in a group. There were four of them, which Neal thought was overkill.

The leader, because he stood at the front and shook Peter's hand while introducing everyone, introduced himself as Charles 'but you can call me Chuck'.

Standing just behind him was a blond woman with hair tied up in a tight bun. She set off warning bells in Neal's head because she kept glancing at him. Chuck introduced her as Sarah, his partner.

The muscle with a cop-face and military-like statue and posture was introduced by Chuck as Casey. Neal thought Casey would be at home with the Marshals and wondered if he really was a Marshal, sent here to make sure he didn't run. That was not a calming thought.

The final member of their group was Ellie. She introduced herself, stepping forward to cut Chuck off and ask that Peter leave the room while they talked to Neal. She certainly came across as someone who people didn't say no to.

Not that Peter paid attention to that.

"I stay with Neal."

"If you're worried about him running," Sarah said as she motioned towards Casey. "I don't think that'll be an issue."

"I'm not." It warmed Neal's heart to hear that.

"There's no reason for you to be in here," Ellie countered.

"Neal is part of my team."

And idea occurred to Chuck.

"Neal might not want you in here," he said, giving Neal a pointed look. "Not with what we have to talk about." It was partially the truth.

Neal narrowed his eyes at Chuck. What kind of information would this agent have that Peter wouldn't already know? It also sounded a little like they planned to blackmail him.

Neal glanced at Peter.

"I'm sure nothing bad can happen here," he pointed out, motioning outside where the White Collar division were working hard. "And you did say there was a stack of paperwork waiting for you."

Peter gave him his 'I'm suspicious and I don't like this' look. Neal just smiled back reassuringly. After all, they were in the middle of the White Collar FBI division.

* * *

><p>Neal plastered on his best reassuring conman grin as the agents all took seats in front of him.<p>

"So, how can I help you agents this fine day?" he asked, ignoring the slightly hesitant looks the agents were giving him. He understood why they might be wary but their looks were more grieved than frustrated. It was unusual.

"Nothing too serious," Ellie said, pulling out a laptop. It was black with colour lights moving through it. "We just want you to look at some pictures."

Now, Neal was more than curious. There was also something vaguely familiar about the sentence. His gut clenched at the situation but he told himself he was being silly.

"Okay?" he responded cautiously. "They're not violent crimes, I hope?" He really hoped they weren't. Violent crimes made him feel sick.

"No, nothing like that," Ellie said with a smile, opening the laptop. She typed in a passphrase and Neal waited for the program to boot up.

* * *

><p>First he was aware of how much his head was pounding. Then he was aware of how tightly his eyes were screwed shut. Images flickered on the back of his eyelids and faded, to be replaced by light which hurt even through his closed eyes.<p>

A moan vibrated in his throat and helped distract him from the pounding in his head.

"Bryce?" A voice asked. He placed an arm over his eyes, hoping whomever it was would go away. The movement made him aware of an itch under his skin at the feel of his clothes. They were fine clothes, something he wouldn't want to wear outside of missions. And there was a tie, a proper tie with a knot and all, tired around his neck.

His other hand moved up to tug it loose. As soon as he felt like standing, he would lose it. It would be far too easy for someone to turn his tie into a weapon against him. Pulling at it from the front would pull him out of fighting form and possibly even to the ground. More likely, it would be used to choke him.

The faster these thoughts came, the better he felt. His headache was receding and his head was cleaning. He was beginning to feel like he had just woken up from a good sleep. His head felt light and his body felt stable and energised.

"Bryce?" a different voice this time. He now was able to identify it as well as the voice that sounded before.

He opened his eyes.

"Hey Chuck," he greeted, "Sarah." Another person came into view. "Ellie?" he questioned as she flashed a penlight in his eyes.

"Everything seems normal," she commented, ignoring his surprise at seeing her. Bryce glanced at Chuck, silently conveying his question of why Chuck had brought his sister.

Chuck gave a soft bark of laughter.

"She knows," he said, "you've missed a lot, buddy."

"Joy," Bryce grumbled sarcastically, moving to sit in the seat closest to him.

"Just a few questions," Ellie said in a business-like tone, opening a file. "Name?"

"Bryce Larkin."

"Date of birth?" Bryce responded and answered all her other questions about his personal life. Although, he really had to wonder if, 'what year did you pretend to sleep with your best friend's ex-girlfriend,' was really on the question list.

He was glad that they had figured out that his 'relationship' with Jill had been faked and that other than that one question, they didn't bring it up again.

"And do you know what year it is?"

"Um." 2012? 2009? Part of him knew it had to be later than 2009 but part of him felt certain that it couldn't be later than that year. "I guess not."

He glared at them as they made pitying faces. Maybe he should have been freaking out a little but, he just wasn't having any kind of response beyond 'ah, that makes sense'.

"Do you know where we are?"

Bryce looked around.

"New York, FBI, in the White Collar Division conference room," he answered quickly and certainly. It wasn't until he was done speaking that he realised he shouldn't know that with certainty, should he? "What are we doing in the FBI?" Chuck's team shared glances, obviously silently trying to decide how much information to give him. "Do you want me to go outside and ask someone?" Bryce taunted. "Because I've answered your questions," mostly because they weren't related to the CIA, "and I would like some of mine answered."

"Long story or short?" Casey asked with a smirk. Bryce raised his eyebrows and wondered when Casey started making that particular expression instead of his usual sneer.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>So, Team Bartowski appears and Bryce is back for the long haul, although still a little out of it. But, this story is far from over. Actually, it will probably end up longer than intended as I prefer chapters of this length but originally planned for longer chapters. And if you hadn't already guessed, this takes place during season 4 White Collar and after the end of Chuck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

* * *

><p>Neal was in the conference room for ages. Jones waited and glanced over often, especially after one of the agents, the tall, skinny and dark haired one, came out and knocked on the door of Peter's office. Peter went in as well, they moved to his office and then nothing. Blinds were pulled and the room was soundproof. If it wasn't for the hole in the office everyone could feel, the missing comments and movements usually made by Neal and Peter, Jones would have forgotten there was anyone up there.<p>

He didn't think they even came out for lunch. Diana had lunch in the office and said she didn't see them.

Five o'clock came and went with no sign of Neal. The only sign of Peter was at five o'clock, when he came out and told everyone that they could leave when they were ready and that he and Neal were staying late.

Jones left half an hour later, feeling slightly dissatisfied. It was never a good thing when Peter and Neal worked together while keeping the rest of them out of the loop.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Jones came to work early. While he was respectful of his boss, he was also an agent. And the agent part of him refused to leave whatever was going on completely to his boss.<p>

Because he came early, only he was witness to Neal's odd little moment at the start of the day. Neal and Peter both arrived early. Peter went up to his office and Neal took a moment to stare at his desk. For a moment, Jones thought he saw annoyance pass through Neal's expression, something he thought the master conman would have been able to hide.

There was a twinge when Diana asked to borrow a pencil. Neal smiled and handed it over while they chatted.

He didn't think it odd at the time but the fact that it stood out should have told him something was wrong with Neal. And then there was Peter.

Peter was acting a lot like the time when he thought Neal had stolen the treasure. That had almost gotten Jones killed and ended in Elizabeth Burke's kidnapping at the hands of Keller.

There was something missing. Something different. Peter gave Neal suspicious glares and Jones noticed that he also gave undecipherable looks to those agents who interacted with Neal.

Interestingly, Neal went off to have lunch by himself. Diana asked Peter about this and he said that it was fine. She was about to make another comment when Peter dismissed her; asking if she had anything to say which didn't relate to Neal.

The agents from the previous day didn't return.

* * *

><p>The next day, any agent who hadn't noticed the tension Peter was giving off, noticed now. He barked orders, was irritable and spent most of his time in his office. Neal seemed as baffled as everyone else but, Jones had a gut feeling that he wasn't.<p>

And you shouldn't bet against the gut.

Diana thought that it might have something to do with Ellen's death. Neal had been close to her and was determined to find the killer.

Right before lunch, Jones ducked to the office toilets. He pushed the door open;

"Your handwriting isn't right!" Peter was saying before both he and Neal snapped to look at him.

Jones blinked in surprise. Peter was frustrated and had both his hands on his hips while Neal was standing there, his hands dropping to his sides.

"Something wrong?" Jones asked.

"Don't worry about it," Peter grumbled, leaving. Neal followed with an apologetic smile towards Jones.

"You wouldn't happen to know what's got Peter all worked up lately, would you?" Jones asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No idea," Neal responded with a shrug of his shoulders. It was then it hit Jones.

Hands. He could see Neal's hands. Usually when Neal preformed that motion, his hands were in his pockets.

Plus, now that he was thinking about it, he was certain Neal's hands had been on his hips when he walked in. They had dropped as soon as Peter and Neal became aware of his presence.

As if Neal had been stepping out of a role. Or into one. It made Jones sick to think about. What kind of game was Neal playing with them now?

* * *

><p>Jones was not as bold as Diana, he preferred to say 'yes, sir' and stay out of the line of fire.<p>

* * *

><p>"We should at least tell Jones and Diana." Neal's voice.<p>

"No." That was Peter's, harder than Jones had ever heard it. "They don't deserve to be caught up in this."

"There's nothing to get caught up in," Neal tried to reason.

Peter was struggling to explain. Jones wondered if Peter suspected someone could hear them or if there was something about this situation he didn't want to voice.

"Your situation and what you do, the knowledge of that is enough. This is a mess and I don't have the slightest clue how to fix it."

"You don't have to fix everything-"

"Is that what you think? Or what they think?"

Jones wondered who they were and almost ran into Neal storming out of Peter's office. His face was flushed, embarrassed and angry.

"Neal?" Jones questioned, steadying the young man before they both could lose balance.

Neal looked up at him and Jones flinched. There was something hard in those eyes, something he saw in his old Navy buddies' eyes.

Then they blinked and it was gone.

"Sorry, Clinton," Neal sighed.

_ Who's 'they'?_ Jones wanted to ask.

"It's alright," he said instead, letting go of Neal. He glanced back at Peter's office and noticed the stress in his boss' movements. The man had the weight of something on his shoulders.

* * *

><p>Diana was more willing to put herself out there. She respected those who deserved respect and twisted those who didn't deserve it into knots. She was loyal, strong and knew how to protect herself.<p>

* * *

><p>He told Diana of his observations. He let her draw her own conclusions. If anyone had the drive to figure out what was going on from either Peter or Neal, it was her. She would ask the hard questions.<p>

Diana did ask the hard questions. To Mozzie.

* * *

><p>"Look, Neal's fine. He's not up to anything you Suits would disapprove of. But, anything strange? He stopped painting for a while. When I asked him about it, there was a mostly-complete painting on his easel the next day so he's fine."<p>

"What about Ellen's death?"

"He's dealing." They stared each other down. "Okay, so he was talking about figuring out who killed her and doing it Peter's way and was very passionate. But, he stopped. A strange group stayed a night with him and then he seemed to have all the information he needed. Or so he told me."

"A strange group?"

Mozzie looked around and then motioned for her to lean in close.

"Despite their looks, they were very organised. They knew I there and Neal sent me away but that was all I needed to draw my conclusion."

"And that is?"

"Spies. Or aliens."

Diana sighed. But she didn't get much time to think about it. She broke up with Christy a day later.

* * *

><p>*It might be mentioned later but Neal told Mozzie that the group were information specialists with connections. Mozzie, being in the criminal side of that work, was sceptical because he had never heard of them.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** Okay, so a plot bunny (or whatever you want to call it) hit me. A number of them actually. So, this just got longer than planned and I'm torturing Peter with the presence of spies. And Bryce doesn't know how to act around Peter. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Part 5<strong>

* * *

><p>Bryce didn't like this. The evidence suggested that someone had purposely targeted Ellen. But, even since the Intersect Neal project went off the rails, she had been mostly inactive as an agent. The only task she had was watching over 'Neal'.<p>

Her place had been tossed. Had that been because they were searching for something or was it to disguise an assassination as a simple robbery gone wrong?

And what was the goal? Were they looking for him? Even though Ellen hadn't had any contact with 'Bryce', Neal and Bryce looked identical. It would be simple to assume they were the same person. But, there could have been something else. He checked over the files in front of him and the files on his computer, trying to figure out if Ellen had been working on anything. There didn't seem to be any information suggesting so but, it was unlikely that the CIA would have given him that information if they had it.

He would have to request it.

He cursed. That meant paperwork. Tough, secret-level government paperwork. He loaded up the forms and began inputting the information, realising that this was going to take a while.

If he didn't die of boredom or smash his computer in anger first.

He was in the zone when there was a knock at his door. Bryce slammed the lid of his laptop shut and gathered up the paperwork. On his way to the door, he pressed a hidden button under the kitchen bench which opened up a secret latch under the bench for him to slip the files into. He closed his eyes and pulled up a confident demeanour before opening the door.

"Oh." He froze, seeing Peter standing there with a six-pack of beer and a box of files. Peter was the one person Bryce was having trouble with right now. Everyone else believed him to still be Neal Caffrey but the CIA felt the need to inform Neal Caffrey's handler and FBI agent, Peter Burke, just in case.

He had a flashback to when they had told him back at the conference room. General Beckman had explained everything but it was Bryce who Peter turned to at the end. His expression had been somewhere between betrayed and anguished.

_"This is a joke, right?" he had said. _

Bryce wished he had been able to say yes. Since then, he had no idea whether to act like Neal or Bryce in front of the man. Peter seemed upset when he played Neal but yelled at him for acting like Bryce.

"My wife forced me to come," Peter said as Bryce moved to let him in. "Says we need to make up before she arranges an intervention."

Bryce didn't know what to say. Was this Peter making up with him? He frowned and cursed how Peter Burke seemed to be one of the few people he couldn't read. The man was baffling. His files suggested that he had seen a lot recently which challenged his views of how justice should be done but they didn't seem to change. But he didn't hold a ridged belief either. His actions with Neal, taking on a criminal CI, proved that.

"So, what were you working on?" Peter asked as he entered the apartment.

Bryce sighed and slipped back into his seat.

"Stuff the CIA sent me. Hey, could you take me to the shooting range later? I need to requalify to carry a firearm." Peter stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Peter responded, shaking his head. Bryce didn't miss the way his hands clenched around his bottle.

"I'm not going to take it into the office. I just need to requalify so the company knows they can hand one to me. All agents are required to."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"FBI agents have to as well," he pointed out. He agreed to take Bryce and then, seemingly out of nowhere, asked, "why did you join the CIA?"

Bryce was surprised but, it wasn't like he hadn't been asked that question before. Assets who knew he was CIA or some kind of Fed sometimes asked. And other agents like to ask sometimes, especially analysts when trying to prove a point.

"Why does anyone join the Feds?" he posed, "to make a difference."

Peter looked over his new partner. Because it was difficult to think of him as Neal when they were talking like this. He had almost flinched when Bryce brought up guns.

Neal hated using guns.

And Bryce's voice had sounded bitter when he spoke about his reasons for joining the CIA.

"Do you think you've done that?" he asked before he could stop himself. He wanted to slap himself for sounding like some cheap therapist.

"Of course I have," Bryce responded with determination. "I'm not blind or stupid. I know I've made a difference. I may have regrets and things I wish had gone differently," Sarah had asked him that, "but I can't be unhappy with how things have turned out. Because it could have gone a lot worse." And not just with his 'death'. He didn't even want to think about how things with the Ring or Fulcrum could have gone without his efforts.

Peter blinked, recognising that Bryce wanted the subject dropped.

* * *

><p>If anything, Bryce was more secretive than Neal. Or quiet. Peter hadn't decided which it was. Neal could talk all night and keep him entertained with information and stories. Bryce just seemed to sit there. He responded to questions and engaged in conversation but most of it was guarded.<p>

And he was typing away on his laptop while he did it.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked eventually. Bryce looked up with a caught expression that reminded him of Neal.

"Uh, I'm looking into why someone might want to kill Ellen."

"I thought we handed that off to the CIA?" Not that Peter had been keeping out of it. He had been jumping through hoops with the marshals, trying to get a hold of their evidence.

Bryce laughed at that.

"And who's the closest CIA agent who can take the case?" he said. Peter groaned as he realised that Bryce was. Bryce laughed again. "I'm kidding. I'm wrapped up in this too. They didn't let me actively take the case but I still have access to the information. They're hoping I can put some clues together. I even have the marshals' evidence that a certain Agent Burke has been trying to get his hands on." Bryce waved a flashdrive, looking like a cat that got the cream and Peter felt a flash of annoyance, similar to what he felt when Neal did something stupid.

Peter was about to say something about stupid risks when there was a pounding at the door and Mozzie's frantic voice demanding to be let in.

"Someone's trying to kill me!" Mozzie cried out the moment Bryce let him in.

"Why am I not surprised?" Peter muttered.

"No time for sarcasm, Suit. I am in grave danger."

"Calm down, Moz," Bryce said, "breathe."

Peter backed him up on that and a few breaths coupled with a slug of wine, calmed Mozzie down. Slightly.

"I almost ate a bullet. I've been on that ride before. It shakes you up."

Bryce and Peter shared a look. Bryce wasn't about to say it but they both knew he had close calls as well.

He gave Peter a little nod, showing that he wanted to look into this.

"Explain," Peter ordered.

Mozzie told them about how he had been at an auction of units and had won a majestic, cluttered unit of mystery; a cache of chaos. With June's help in conning the other bidders into using their money before they reached a unit he wanted.

"I found two keys and an address. The address led to a lavish apartment, in which I made myself at home."

Bryce raise an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut.

"Get to the part about the gun," Peter said.

"Okay. So was dusting the bookcase-"

"You were cleaning?"

"Well, a layer of dust would do my sinuses no good, and it led to a fortuitous discovery! A secret passage!"

"A secret passage?" Bryce and Peter questioned in unison.

Mozzie nodded excitedly and added, "in the library! Behind a bookcase!"

Bryce's gaze cautiously shifted over to the bookcase in his apartment. It looked like he might need a new hiding place for his spy tech with Mozzie around.

But, Mozzie's story wasn't done. He finally got to the gunman, a man dressed all in black. Who made a simple but confusing demand.

"He called you 723?" Bryce questioned, his brow furrowing. Where had he heard that before?

"And he wanted a flag?"

"I had no clue what he was talking about, either."

"Well, that makes all of us." Although Peter gave Bryce a scrutinising glance as he said that.

The gunman had fought with Mozzie and fired off the gun while Mozzie escaped into the secret passage he found and escaped to Neal.

It was obviously a case of mistaken identity. The only issue was the man with the gun who was willing to kill over a flag.

* * *

><p>Jones and Diana managed to confirm the existence of Mozzie's found place but FBI resources were mostly off the table as there wasn't a federal crime to investigate.<p>

That didn't stop Peter from cornering Bryce in his office.

"The house has been owned by Robert Townsend since 1781," he said to Bryce. "Are you getting anything on this? The initials CH or 723?"

Bryce hesitated, which was all the tell Peter needed.

"What do you know?"

"Do you really want to know? I mean, it's only a theory."

"That's more than what we've got."

"It's spies?" Bryce said with a smile. He pulled out, from behind his back, a copy of 'Fifty Shades of Spy: the true story of America's secret network' by Oliver Stringer.

Peter gave him a surprised and disbelieving look, his eyebrows going up high.

"George Washington created the Culper spies to aid the continental army during the Revolutionary War. Please tell me you're not talking about those Culper spies."

"Yep."

"The Culpers disbanded after the Revolutionary War. They can't still be around, can they?"

"Well-" Peter shot him the look which Bryce had quickly learnt meant 'don't try and lie to me'. "Possibly? I mean, I've heard rumours that they're still around but, it's hard to tell with things like this. And they used numbers, not names, with 723 being Robert Townsend."

Peter groaned and placed his head in his hands.

"Spies, why is it always spies?" he grumbled. "Mozzie's going to love this."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: **Thank you for your patience. NaNoWriMo took a lot out of me and left very little for fanfiction (I won though so it was worth it).

I forgot to mention on the previous chapter that I use china-shop's episode recaps to assist in writing these (mostly because if I start watching the episode to write this, I won't stop and before I'll know it, I'll have watched part of a season and written nothing. Also, I'm lazy).

* * *

><p><strong>Part 6<strong>

* * *

><p>"How did I miss this?!" Mozzie crowed happily when they told him.<p>

Peter looked at Bryce and tried to ignore the smug expression on the spy's face.

"Mozzie, the author of this book lost his tenured professorship because it's filled with rampant speculation," he tried to reason.

"Speculation? Our government has endorsed a cornucopia of questionable programs - Stargate, MK-Ultra, the space shuttle."

Peter groaned and rubbed his forehead, trying to relieve the headache building. Yes, he knew about the questionable programs, thank you very much.

"He has a point."

Peter glared at Bryce and Bryce smiled back.

"Why are you indulging him?"

Bryce shrugged.

"At the very least, there's a missing person wrapped up in all this."

"Fine," Peter huffed.

Bryce shot him a grateful smile and whispered, "I'll explain later," into Peter's ear as Mozzie started to decode the journal he found in the unit he acquired. Bryce pretended that he didn't see the light sparkle in Peter's eyes as he watched.

The agent loved secret codes, puzzles and treasure hunts which was hardly surprising if you considered his day job.

They placed an ad in the paper which contained a code. It told the descendant of one of the Culper spies, 355, the place and time to meet using clothes on a washing line. Peter had fun explaining it to his wife before Mozzie and Bryce arrived.

Bryce cringed when Mozzie told El that he entertained the idea of his parents being spies and Peter hid his obvious pained expression from the friends.

"There's no chance you'll ignore that, right?" Bryce muttered to Peter.

"No. I still want my explanation."

"Right," Bryce muttered, screwing his eyes shut.

* * *

><p>The meet was taking place in a park and, with Mozzie in the car, Bryce could hold off on giving any kind of explanation. It wasn't until Moz was sitting on a park bench with an open newspaper and waiting for their Culper descendent to show that Peter started pressing Bryce for responses.<p>

"Bryce, I'm using an outdated CIA spy kit that, according to Mozzie, he once hoped belonged to his parents," Peter commented, muttering, "and I'm still annoyed that you refused to provide us with a current version." He finished with, "tell me why you're encouraging this before I get sent back to Evidence."

"You were in Evidence?" Bryce questioned, surprised. Peter gave him the look, the one that said he had just reminded the other agent of the difference between him and the Intersect Neal. "Nevermind."

"Why did you decide to humour Mozzie? We both know that our government has endorsed 'questionable programs'," Peter tried again.

"Like the Intersect program," Bryce finished. He lent back in his chair and tried to relax. His heart clenched and he felt trapped whenever he thought about it. "I don't think you want to know. You'll get all tense, and you'll make that grimace." It was something Bryce had a lot of experience with, even in the short time he had been with the White Collar division. Peter's forehead seemed to scrunch up and he frowned like Bryce was being ignorant. "And there it is. Alright, I'm indulging him because one, we might actually uncover some Culper spies and the CIA would like that information and two, it's better than denying that it exists. At least this way, he's looking for spies outside of his circle."

"And you don't feel guilty about that?" Peter asked. "You're lying to your best friend about your life. About who you are."

"I'm not his friend. Neal doesn't exist." He really hoped that was true. Because there were times, when he spoke with Jones and Diana, which he had the feeling it wasn't. Like the image of Diana in a bathrobe and a drawing on a wall and he _really_ needed some context for that because her file said she wasn't into men.

Maybe they were just dreams or something.

Peter gave him this look which suggested he might know what Bryce was trying to deny but he didn't press it.

"So, if this female Culper descendant actually shows up, what are we going to do?"

"Follow her back to the treasure?" Bryce suggested, turning to watch Mozzie on the park bench. "I don't really know. The CIA would like to talk to her and see if the Culpers are willing to get in contact but they don't want to imply that the spy ring is still active just in case they decide to take action against us."

"So, we're going to watch and wait because your bosses are scared of rejection?"

Bryce snorted. It was a close enough description.

"Welcome to the spy world. We're going to watch and try and get proof that she's part of the spy ring. Then we can take her in and maybe turn her into an asset. At the very least, she might not report her screw up."

"Cute."

Just then, a blond woman in a business like outfit and glasses walked up to Mozzie and sat down. They talked and Bryce could see Mozzie's heart break when the woman, Tempest, told him to 'not pretend about the Culper code' with her.

"So, we have the flag, the letters and the infirmary," Peter summed up as Mozzie received the letters from the woman after telling her that the infirmary she wanted to know about was now a storage unit. "Are they making it up as they go along?"

"Peter." Bryce nudged him and pointed at a tall man following Mozzie.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>Peter stepped in front of the tall man and shouted, "FBI! Put down your weapon!" He held his gun ready and the man instantly froze.<p>

It gave Mozzie enough of a distraction to walk away.

The man introduced himself as Stringer, the one who wrote the book on the Culper spies. Peter wasn't impressed. He took Stringer in, despite his claims of having been mugged as justification for carrying his weapon, and questioned him.

"So, you can't hold Stringer on anything?" Bryce questioned, tugging off his jacket and folding it over the back of the chair. Mozzie was mixing away on the table in his apartment, seeking out any signs of code or hidden messages.

"Except he tried to kill me!"

"We have a circumstantial witness report, and his gun permit cleared, despite his itchy trigger finger," Peter explained. Bryce nodded in understanding while Mozzie kept working, the allure of discovering the secrets hidden in the letters far outweighing Stringer being on the streets.

A few more minutes passed and Mozzie said, conversationally;

"You think Tempest has kids? Must be hard to raise kids as a spy."

Bryce felt a pang of hurt as he recalled Chuck and Ellie. Their parents had been spies and had been forced to leave them for their safety.

"Nearly impossible, I'd imagine."

Peter glanced over at Bryce but any questions he had were drowned out by the message appearing on the old, yellow paper.

The secret is in her eyes.

Mozzie proclaimed that he knew what it meant and dashed out to check his theory.

"So, 'nearly impossible'?"

"Hmm?"

"You said 'nearly impossible'."

"I did. Your point?"

"I'd like more detail, especially if we have to deal with Mozzie's illusions about his parents being spies."

"What kind of detail?" Bryce was attempting to dodge responding, having grown more and more uncomfortable with the conversation as it went on.

"Can spies raise children? Can spies even have children? I'd imagine your job isn't good for meeting people, let alone marrying and having kids."

"Uh, maybe and yes." Bryce placed his hands in his pockets and shifted.

"Maybe?"

"One of my friends has spy parents who tried to raise him and his sister. Their mother had to leave for a long-term undercover mission where contact with her family would only put them in the sights of a madman and their father walked out on them years later when he became a focus in the spy world. He didn't want to risk that focus landing on his children.

"As for how spies have children," Bryce smirked, "same as other people, except mummy and daddy don't always love each other. Sometimes, mummy and daddy are locked in a game of wits where one might not make it out alive and baby is an accident mummy was hoping to avoid."

Peter made the grimace.

"What about your parents?" he asked.

"My parents are a lovely normal couple from Connecticut, who don't even know I'm alive." Bryce smiled as he said it. It had been such a long time but he didn't feel sad when he thought of them. "When the CIA thought I was dead, they honoured my final wish to hand my spy will over to my parents and inform them of my true occupation. I know they're proud of me." When he was found alive and Chuck had helped him clear up his 'betrayal' to the CIA, Bryce had used the jet they had provided him with to stop over in Connecticut.

The consulate mission had waited. And he spent a while watching over his parents and hearing them tell others how proud of their son they were, even though they couldn't and didn't state what his true occupation was.

* * *

><p>Neither Peter nor Bryce realised that Mozzie had been listening. He had come back for the letters.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

* * *

><p>Diana walked in from lunch looking mildly concerned. Anyone who didn't know her would just assume that she was dealing with a tough case or a difficult suspect or witness.<p>

Jones wasn't just anyone. Luckily for him, Diana was looking to share what she had found out.

"Those agents who came in the other day," she started, dropping a file in front of him, "they're not your everyday agents."

Curious, Jones opened the file. It was compiled information on one Charles Carmichael and his team. At the top was a sticky-note, warning the reader to stay away from them.

"I had a few favours owed to me," Diana explained, pointing to the note. "I was specifically warned away from them. Apparently, they're one of those top-secret government teams stationed in California and you don't even want to know the favour I called in for that little titbit of information. I also called the FBI there and they said they keep their heads low. Charles Carmichael has friends in high places."

"What does someone like that what with Neal?" Jones questioned, worried. It was never a good thing when Neal caught the eye of someone with powerful friends.

"I have no idea. Whatever it was, it was short. They haven't been seen here since that day."

They both thought over this piece of information because whatever Charles Carmichael and his team did, their White Collar division was still feeling the effects.

Peter walked through the front door and Jones closed and hid the file.

"Diana!"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Found anything?"

"Yes, Boss." Diana moved over to her desk and boot up the files. She managed to track the genealogy of a few of the Culper spies and came up with a dead professor.

"The man who was arrested for his murder-"

"-has the initials CH, just like what is printed on the robe Mozzie found in the apartment. And look where they're keeping him. Thanks, Di." And then he was gone.

"So, Culper spies. Neal's little friend sure knows how to pick 'em."

"Mozzie's excited about it."

"Of course he is," Jones sighed.

"It's like all his dreams come true," Diana joked.

* * *

><p>Mozzie would rather be anywhere than here. Here was stuck in a room (the Suit's kitchen no less!) with the Suit and a Neal who was a spy. He had yet to figure out whether this was a brainwashed Neal or whether Neal had been kidnapped and replaced.<p>

But, the Culper spy mystery demanded it.

"I've found our mysterious CH," Peter said. "His name is Cabot Hawkins and he was found at the murder scene of another Culper descendant." Peter twisted his laptop so they could see the screen.

The murder victim was bald with glasses and looked like a taller, slightly less round version of Mozzie.

"That victim could have been me!" Mozzie realised, flashing back to the man with the gun and then looking over at the other spy in the room. The spy gave him a concerned look and Mozzie played along.

"Well, Cabot was ordered to an insane asylum and his records sealed." Peter then explained that Cabot would only speak to 711, which is George Washington and his descendants.

Peter said that he quoted Washington in order to trick Cabot into talking to him.

"He says that he wasn't the murderer. He was only there to get the murder victim's documents, and when he arrived, the guy was already dead."

"Do you believe him?" Mozzie asked.

"He also told me that his cat gave him a parasite that subtly manipulates his personality," Peter said in a sceptical tone.

"So paranoia runs in the Townsend blood," Mozzie theorised. Neal shifted awkwardly and both Mozzie and Peter stared at him.

"I don't think a spy would have a cat," Neal informed them, giving Mozzie a guilty look.

Mozzie looked to Peter and Peter looked away.

"Cabot also said that he alone tracked down the descendants' clues about the flag," he said in a slightly disappointed tone.

"With no help from anybody? All by himself?"

Peter nodded and Mozzie looked to Neal. Neal was sympathetic and Mozzie schooled his expression to look crushed.

But, Mozzie didn't think a spy would admit to being a spy. He had heard Neal say he was a spy to Peter but Neal had never told him that in all the time he knew him.

"You think Stringer could be the killer?" Mozzie asked, thinking back to the man in the park.

"My gut tells me it's not Cabot," Peter responded.

Mozzie nodded and decided to leave.

"Wait, Mozzie!" And how did he miss it? Neal rarely called him 'Moz' these days. "We still need you to prove Stringer's guilty."

"Solving crimes is your department," he said.

* * *

><p>Bryce stepped into his apartment and closed the door with a sigh. All this Culper spy business was taking time away from figuring out who killed E. Especially since Mozzie was standing in the apartment, looking like someone had killed his pet dog.<p>

"This may be a surprise, but the Culpers weren't just a treasure hunt to me."

"No?" Bryce questioned, trying to sound sympathetic.

"Once again, I fell under the spell that if the Culpers existed as spies," Mozzie paused for a moment and then added in a soft voice, "then my parents could be spies, too."

"I'm sorry, Mozzie."

"Moz."

"Huh?"

"Neal often calls me 'Moz'."

Bryce gave Mozzie a confused look, ignoring the thud in his chest. It was different being caught by someone who was non-violent. It wasn't a case of you or them, because they weren't going to kill you.

"Something wrong, Moz?" he asked anyway.

"Who's your friend with the spy parents?"

Bryce's mouth dropped open. It was impossible for Mozzie to know that, much less bring it up. All of his research suggested that Mozzie would either attack him or run off, never to be seen again.

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard you talking to the Suit. Who are you, CIA Suit?"

Bryce took a breath;

"Neal Caffrey, Nick Halden, all the other aliases you're aware off, as well as, Bryce Larkin, Bruce, don't ask about that one, Mr. Anderson, an accountant, and apparently CIA Suit."

Mozzie glared at him.

"You're actually telling me?"

Bryce shrugged. Peter knew, why couldn't Mozzie?

"As long as you answer one question for me; why are you still here?"

"I believe I ask the questions, CIA Suit. Explain Neal."

Rather than explain, Bryce handed over a set of (severely edited) reports. He let Mozzie read them, including the stuff involving himself and waited.

Bryce had to admit that Mozzie was an interesting guy. An enigma and someone who lived so far of the grid and covered his tracks so well that not even the CIA working with the NSA could figure it out.

"So, I was right," Mozzie finally said.

"Huh?"

"The group that visited you are spies. I _knew_ it, they were no information specialists I had heard of."

"To be fair, they hadn't heard of you either."

"That's because I'm good at what I do."

Bryce couldn't argue that.

"And because I'm good at what I do, I know that you don't believe that the Culper spies are disbanded."

Bryce didn't respond as he didn't want to encourage Mozzie's strange fascination but he also didn't want to lie to him. He looked around the room and noticed the cut outs on the table.

"What are those for?" he asked.

Mozzie frowned at him but answered anyway;

"I made them in third grade to inform the other kids at the orphanage about my parents' story; secret shadow-puppet show at lights out."

"I might need to see that immediately," Bryce said automatically, eyes moving from the puppets to Mozzie's hesitant face. He gave an encouraging smile. "Come on, Moz. I like stories."

"A story for a story," Mozzie bartered.

"As long as I don't have to use puppets. I haven't tried puppeteering since high school."

Mozzie picked up the puppets and began his story:

_ It was Russia, during the cold war. Alisa the noble had nobly; remember, I wrote this when I was 8, devoted her life to her country…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

* * *

><p>Cabot's story checked out. Peter believed he was innocent. Now they just needed to prove Stringer was a murderer.<p>

And what better way than a confession?

* * *

><p>The FBI set up a sting. Bryce played 711, George Washington's descendent, while Jones played Thomas Jefferson's descendent and 711's bodyguard.<p>

Mozzie contacted Stringer and led him into the apartment where Bryce and Jones were waiting.

Bryce baited Stringer to admitting for a murder and they had him, until he mentioned coordinates. Mozzie, who had retreated to the van, realised he had to do something before the flag was lost forever.

Bryce revealed that they had letters, which told them how to use the coordinates.

"What do you want for the letters?"

"I want to know our traitor suffered."

"He fought me for every last gasp of breath. Anything else?"

"Is that enough?" Bryce asked Jones, hiding a wince as something in his brain twitched.

"It's plenty. FBI! Put your hands in the air now!" Jones pulled his gun on Stringer.

They had him.

"Come with me if you want to live," Mozzie said to Stringer, appearing from a secret passage in the bookcase.

"Mozzie? What?" Bryce questioned, his head twinging again and causing him to visibly wince.

They tried to stop him. But Jones lost them and Bryce couldn't keep up.

"Neal? You okay?" Jones asked in concern as the conman dropped to the ground with a groan and his head in his hands.

Bryce was not. His head was twitching and images were flickering in front of his vision like a broken TV picture.

"Neal!" Peter's cry stopped the images for a moment, long enough for Bryce to look up. "What's going on?"

"Mozzie's trying to save the coordinates. If we arrest Stringer, he'll never give them up," Bryce groaned out.

A hand gripped his shoulder.

"That's not what I meant. What's going on with you? Do you need a hospital?"

"No," Neal groaned, "no hospital."

"Okay. Deep breaths. See if this passes."

Neal felt like something was pressing on his thoughts. He focused on his breathing, the way Mozzie had told him and it seemed to clear. Looking around, he realised he didn't know where they were.

"Where are we?" he asked Peter.

Peter blinked.

"Neal?"

Neal twitched; that was wrong. He shrugged Peter off and focused on his breathing. Mozzie had taught him this, it helped clear and focus the mind.

Images flickered.

And faded.

Along with the pain.

Bryce was the same as before.

"Okay, it's passed," he said, standing up.

"You should go back to the van," Jones suggested.

"No. We need to get to Mozzie," Bryce said, "once Stringer has the flag-"

"Mozzie's a dead man," Peter finished. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

><p>In the storage unit, Mozzie and Stringer found Tempest. The blond librarian claimed that she was just curious and had nothing to do with the Feds or spies. Stringer's coordinates, combined with the pin-hole camera nature of the unit, lead them to a war monument.<p>

"Getting really tired of guns being waved in my face," Mozzie muttered as Stringer order them to open the memorial. Mozzie used a key he had found and they entered. It was almost empty with a stone embedded on the floor.

"416-209," Tempest read, her voice stilted with excitement, "Never forget. I bet the flag is under this stone."

Mozzie was also feeling the excitement.

"You know the Culper code. Because you're a Culper spy! Aha! They do exist!"

"What?! I am not a spy." And Mozzie felt like showing this moment to Bryce as a 'this is how you answer' example.

"Hey, guys, how about we lift the stone?" Stringer ordered, interrupting the moment.

"He is going to kill us the moment we confirm the flag is here, isn't he?" Tempest lamented.

"If you see a moment, use your spy training."

"I am not a spy. I don't have training."

"Oh, right. 'Culpers don't exist.' Copy that. Still, use your spy training."

They found a box under the stone. Mozzie passed it to Tempest and distracted Stringer.

Tempest said the box was empty.

Stringer was ready to shoot them.

In a move which Mozzie definitely thought was a spy move, Tempest whipped out her belt and knocked the gun from Stringer's hands.

"Run!" she told Mozzie, bolting for the exit.

Mozzie followed her, claiming, "you really are a spy!"

Peter arrived as they felt and arrested Stringer outside the monument. Bryce caught them a short way down the path.

"You both okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. She used her spy training."

"I told you; I am not a spy. I saw a moment, and I took it," Tempest said earnestly, silently begging him to believe her.

Bryce turned to Mozzie for an explanation. But, Mozzie wasn't interested. He couldn't take his eyes of Tempest.

"Hey, your secret's safe with me," Mozzie insisted, winking outrageously at her. Bryce pulled him away.

"You know, sometimes when people insist they're not a spy, they're not a spy."

"Of course you'd look at the obvious route, with your 'government training'. She's a more free spirit, untethered by today's oppressive government."

"Uh-huh."

"I got conclusive evidence that Culper spies do exist. And if they do, anything's possible."

"Uh-huh."

"Tempest told you she's not a spy," Peter pointed out obviously as he walked up.

"Oh, she was preserving her cover. Might I point out she was the first one to open the box?"

"What does that matter?" Peter questioned.

"The flag was gone. And so is she."

Bryce and Peter looked around.

"Oh. The General's not going to be happy about this," Bryce lamented. He turned to Mozzie. "You do know your 'conclusive evidence' isn't really conclusive, right?"

"Especially when the flag will sell for an untold amount on the black market," Peter added.

"Bah. You're both sceptics." Mozzie would know if the flag hit the black market.

"I've got a debrief to get to," Bryce said, waving them both off as he walked away.

Mozzie frowned.

"He's gotten more work-focused these past few days."

"That's Bryce," Peter sighed. "He's actually serious when not playing Neal. Maybe a little too much. I don't even know if he has any hobbies."

"He doesn't paint," Mozzie pointed out.

"He's still looking into who might have killed Ellen," Peter added.

They shared a look.

"This may be worse than when Kate died," Mozzie pointed out.

Peter gave him a sceptical look.

"Because he's working?"

"Because he doesn't stop working, Suit. And you know it's bad."

"What do we do about it?"

* * *

><p>Bryce opened the door to his apartment, ready to resume work on E's old contacts. He figured one of them might know something about why she would be hunted down and killed.<p>

"It's always sad when an agent dies," a female voice pointed out smoothly.

Bryce pulled his gun and flicked on the light.

Tempest sat on the dinning table. Her blond hair fluttered around her face and her glasses were gone, making her green eyes seem dark and serious.

"Tempest," Bryce greeted.

She smiled and tilted her head.

"Won't that get you into trouble, Mr. Ex-Con?" she purred, nodding towards the gun.

Bryce frowned but slipped the gun back into his waistband.

"What do you want?" he asked, curious.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>Tempest, what are you doing? You were supposed to fade off into the sunset! (I didn't plan for this so she could either have a big role or just be a plot device).

Oh, and her glasses aren't fake. She's wearing contacts at the end.


End file.
